30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Eldrake
The golden light from the enchanted lanterns spilled into the chamber, casting a soft, sun-warm glow over Eva’s skin. It wasn’t real sunlight—not in Riftreach—but it felt like it. Or close enough when you don’t remember what real sunlight feels like.
She lay curled in the sheets, breath slow and even, a tangle of red hair fanned across the pillow like a flame. My arm was still draped around her waist, her back pressed to my chest. She looked peaceful. Safe.
I didn’t deserve the trust she gave me.
She had cried in this bed. Cried in my arms. Shaken from the truth about her mother, the visions, I’d felt her fear. Her voice, raw and wrecked, still echoed in my head when she told me she didn’t know how to trust anymore.
And I hadn’t known how to answer. Only that I wanted to be the one beside her while she figured it out. The one who didn’t lie, didn’t keep secrets. If I can’t own up about the bond yet, I could at least tell Julian the truth.
I slipped my arm free, careful not to wake her, and pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder before pulling away completely. She sighed softly, adjusting in her sleep. The shape of her lingered on my skin like heat.
A mark on my neck caught my attention in the mirror as I dressed. Deep violet, just beneath my jaw—a souvenir from her lips. I touched it briefly, lips quirking upward despite myself.
The war room smelled of old ink and iron. Maps, missives, and coded correspondence littered the long table like a battlefield. Julian stood at its center, arms braced on either side of a report, handlebar mustache twitching faintly as his eyes narrowed in thought.
“Good morning, Commander,” I said as I entered.
“Captain.” He didn’t look up.
I walked to the table, scanning the spread of intel. “Any word from Fen or Felix?”
“Not yet.” He finally lifted his gaze—and paused. His eyes flicked to the mark at my neck, then to the smirk I hadn’t quite managed to suppress. A grin spread across his face.
“I see Lady Evandra’s acclimating well to life underground.”
I ignored the bait, instead pulling a fresh report from the stack and scanning it. “That’s actually why I’m here.”
Julian snorted, circling the table with a long-legged stride. He poured himself a cup of thick, dark tea, then waved it lazily in my direction. “Don’t tell me you’re getting attached. That wasn’t in your job description, last I checked.”
I stiffened.
He sipped once, then spoke again, almost idly. “Just let her down gently. You played your part brilliantly. Pretending to care for her, drawing her here—you’ve done exactly as we needed.”
Something twisted in my chest.
“Julian.”
He glanced back, cup halfway to his mouth.
“That’s not what this is,” I said, more harshly than I intended.
His expression didn’t change. “Isn’t it?”
“I care about her.”
Julian studied me for a long beat, then let out a sigh so theatrical it could’ve brought the house down in a playhouse. “Godsdamn Dragons,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Drake, you were assigned to bring her here. Earn her trust. Get her to stay. Not fall in love with her.”
“I didn’t plan this.”
“No one ever does.”
The geyser’s faint hiss filled the silence. Julian set his cup down and leaned forward, his expression sharper now, his warmth gone.
“I need you to understand something. This isn’t a fleeting distraction. I’m in love with her. We’ve bonded.”
The cup rattled as he slammed it down, tea splashing across a stack of maps.
“Bonded?” Julian’s voice lost its theatrical lilt for once, dropping into something deadly serious. “Gods help us.”
“I thought you’d be the one person who wouldn’t act surprised.”
“I’m not surprised. I’m irritated . There’s a difference.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Do you have any idea what kind of leverage that gives the wrong people? If anyone finds out you’ve tied your heart—your rift—to her?—”
“I don’t care.”
“You should!” His voice cracked like a whip. “This isn’t about your feelings, Drake. It’s about her role in all of this.”
I glanced at the wall, jaw tightening.
“She’s not a pawn.”
“She is,” Julian snapped. “We all are. Do you think any of us are here by accident? That the Rift gave her visions of the mirror for fun?”
I said nothing.
Julian leaned closer. “Do you even understand what that mirror is?”
“I know it’s dangerous.”
“It’s more than dangerous. It’s a tether . A Goddamn anchor point between Vyper and a God . Him having possession of it?—”
“We will stop him.”
He laughed, bitter and low. “You say that like it’s a promise. But we still don’t know where it is. We don’t know why it showed itself to her. Or how long before it drives her mad.”
I flinched.
Julian caught it and sighed. “Look. I’m not trying to be cruel. But you need to be clear-eyed about this. If you care for her—really care—then don’t let your feelings blind you. She’s stronger than she knows, but she’s vulnerable. Especially now.”
I met his gaze. “I’ll protect her.”
“Good. Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you before the bond does.”
We shared a long, weighted silence. Finally, Julian sat back down and reached for another map.
“You didn’t come here just to argue,” he muttered. “What else?”
I hesitated. “We need a strategy. For the mirror.”
That got his attention. “You think she’s ready to go after it?”
“She will be. Soon. Her training is improving, but in combat and controlling her Rift.”
“We don’t even know where it is.”
“I think we do,” I said, voice quiet. “Or we’re close.”
Julian frowned, but he didn’t argue. “Alright. Let’s talk logistics.”
He started pulling reports closer. I leaned in beside him.
Neither of us noticed the footsteps receding in the corridor beyond the cracked door.